Uther's Great Plan
by Beautiful-Tyrant77
Summary: Arthur watched in confusion, that transformed into irritation as Merlin stood mouth opening and closing as if to say something but no words came out. "Well," an impatient Arthur snaps. "Get on with it." Merlin's mouth opens and closes one last time. "I think your father's trying to seduce me."
1. Prologue

Umber eyes watched as the shimmering womanly figure made its way towards him, the trees of the forest bowed with its proximity and with every step an unnatural heaviness tempered on the druid's aging body. The luminescent entity stopped before him, silently staring at the man's kneeling form. The rays of gold that shone from it blurred any features. And it's emanating presence constrained the man to his knees, only his will kept his head lifted. The womanly figure spoke, softly but with great intent. "Do you know who I am?" Caern was well aware of who she was the moment her words reached his ears. Years of being in her presence, of listening to her commands made him well aware of who she was.

"High Priestess Nimueh of the Old Religion."Caern voice was confident and though his weathered face was blank of any expression, there was surprised written in his eyes. "Your death was greatly mourned." Caern indirectly questioned, voice neutral and respectful. The wind drew a dying whisper, the silence echoing the night.

"My death was necessary, an instrument to the Old Religion's bidding." She retorted, emphasizing the very end, subtly returning the discussion to the subject at hand. The only thing Caern could discern from her person was the mild irritation in her voice at the change in the subject. Nimueh continued further ending the latter discussion. "Caern of the druids, the Old religion asks for your aid."

"Of course my priestess," He readily answered.

"Your life may be cut short?" She adequately warned.

"It shall be my honor shall serve the Old religion with my life." He said willingly, lowering his head nearly to the ground to the presence of the old religion.

" In two days time, when the sun shines the brightest in the sky, you shall be captured by the Knights of Camelot. If you desire to live, it is essential that the Kings seek your knowledge. You must become indispensable to him, and he must seek Lord Emrys; you must inform him of the curse hurled upon his house."

"I shall leave no knowledge of the curse untouched, but... if I may speak freely?" Caern paused until Nimueh waved her hand for him to continue. "Why are we aiding the King who has taken so many of our blood."

"We are aiding the survival of all those born of Midgard." Her voice filled with tremor. "Something is coming, when hundreds of centuries have passed, he will come and alongside will ride Armageddon."


	2. DILF

Hello Readers,

Letting you know a few things. This is my submissions for NaNoWriMo for this year. I do not have a beta reader but need one badly because I have four more chapter that need help. I'm very much sleep deprived so there will be alot of mistakes. I will also try to update Thursday and Friday at least once a . Let me know what you think comments are what feed me.

Chapter One: DILF

The King knew he had drunk too much at the feast the night before, as the blaring pain continued to reside in his head. The sound of milling people and the gleaming rays contributing to his agonizing torture. He glared at his smirking friend beside him, only to wince at the sharp pain that rose. Dom let out a snort.

"I warned you it was much stronger than any I had brought to you in the past," Dom says half hidden amusement painted on his face. His burnt golden locks littered with strands of silver were perfectly made, face well rested, and no sign of wincing in his vicinity. He looked as if he had not been right alongside drinking with him.

"How have you no ill effect, when you sat drinking beside me through the night?" Uther let petulant glare at the smirking face of his old friend as they slowly make way to the knights training ground. "I wish you a slow and agonizing death." A hearty laugh peels from King Dominic lips as creases appear at the corner of his eyes. "How is James. I hear his wife shall give birth soon?" Dominic Cobb brightens his eyes filling with excitement, pride, and love for his family. Uther was man enough to admit the jealousy that ran through him at the thought of grandchildren.

"They are both great Christine is still refusing bed rest and James swears they are having a girl." They continue to speak until Dom's attention was caught by something else. Uther followed the direction of Dom's gaze leading him to his son posturing in his ability to defend solely for the sake of his manservant. Letting out a frustrated sound, Uther covered his eyes. "I much rather make do with this pounding pain in my head than continue to watch my son posture and pin after his servant; whom might I add, is equally enthralled by my son."

"So you have no issue with your son being with a manservant." He asked testing his friend's words and simply validating what he heard.

"No, my issue hales from the lack of action. I taught my son better." Dom rolls his eyes at Uther. "What." Shaking his head at Uther absurdity Dom smiles. "My son exhibited great skill in combat by the time he was seven years old, only three years after he began teaching himself to fight when no other would help." Dom knew how Uther enjoyed drama and let him have his pause. "So why, I may ask has he yet to make advances towards Merlin?"

"You are just annoyed that he's 'Tarnishing the Pendragon name' by not being refined and with his pining." Dom teased, as he pointed this out, causing Uther to display something that very closely resembles a pout. "Oh do cease your pouting." A warm smile varnished the foreign ruler's face. "But to answer your question. Arthur believes that he will have to marry a girl and have an heir for the good of the kingdom." Dom's words bring the king further away from the humor-filled haze. "Have you thought of telling him about the curse." Uther shook his head. "It might make your life easier, in their regard."

"How do I go around telling my child that he will never have children of his own because of my foolish anger." The silence flowed around them. "Even if I do tell Arthur about the curse, what good will it do."

"Maybe he can marry for love," Dom says gazing at the pair pining fools inching closer. " instead of for influence?" King Uther thought about the last time he let his son simply be happy, and that made up his mind. Uther — for the first time since the agonizing death of his beloved wife — was voluntarily put the genuine happiness of his son before his people, but most importantly above himself. He watched as his son swaggered from the grinning Merlin, whose eyes only left Arthur back, only when he disappeared around the corner. Merlin's gentle eyes still shone brightly, and an indulgent smile adorned his face. An almost evil grin appeared on Uther's face. _Just because I decided to play nice doesn't mean I won't get some amusement at their expense while getting them together._

"Merlin." In a brief pace, Merlin's visibly stiffened, his lips a taut line of political neutrality. He spun around to look cautiously at the king nearly staggering in his nervous haste but having steadied himself at the last minute. Uther carefully suppressed a hearty chuckle. Dom shook his head and quietly informed him of his departure and to inform him if any help is needed. Uther made his way towards where Merlin stood now poised and upright.

"Your Highness." Merlin inclined his head in a bow, his body rigid, neck erect with a elegance and natural fluidity not customarily worn on peasants that held Uther's attention for a moment.

"Please," Uther grinned causing Merlin to blink and pinched mouth to soften a little. The delighted king knew intuitively that the resemblance Arthur, and he shared when they smiled was the reason for that slight change. "Call me Uther," and to himself, he whispered. "After all we'll family soon."

" Of course Sire," Merlin strung his hands together as Uther raised a single brow toward the nervous boy. "I… I mean Uther." Wearing a charming grin that bared much resemblance to his son, Uther spoke.

"I have some tasks for you. They may take you time to accomplish them and most importantly you can not let Arthur know."

Later in Arthur's quarter, a disgruntled Arthur sat glaring vehemently at the papers in hand. The door to his room slammed opened, Arthur sprang up reaching for sword, only to stop when door slammed shut and bringing into view a frantic looking Merlin. He was wide-eyed, opened mouth a look of clear disbelief spread across his pale face. Arthur watched in confusion, that briskly transformed into irritation as Merlin stood mouth opening and closing as if to say something but no words came out. "Well," an impatient Arthur snaps. "Get on with it." Merlin's mouth opens and closes one last time.

"I think your father's trying to seduce me." A howl of unrestrained sound was released from Arthur lips, his body arched has his arms folded across his belly. Through narrow eyes Merlin scowled at his princes as he continued to laugh. It took some time for Arthur to notice that Merlin was not laugh, his face herald a frown that almost verged on a pout. Arthur stopped, biting his bottom lip in a attempt to put some failing restrained on his amusement.

"What made you think that?" Arthur said, indulging Merlin with a deep inhale and a roll of his eyes.

"Well, he asked me to call him Uther. Lately, he's been almost nice to me. He punished a Noble on my behalf. I caught him more than once staring wistfully at my direction, and he gave me that smile that you both sometimes used to get something you want that always makes me we…" Merlin words stumbled. "...want to roll my eyes. Yes! Makes me want to roll my eyes." Merlin wanted the ground to swallow him whole so instead, he turned to collect Arthur's discard clothing as he felt the warmth rushing to the fronts of his cheeks. _He gave me that smile you wear that leaves me weak in the knees._

"Are you sure your not simply seeing things?" Merlin nodded, and Arthur stared at his servant with half closed eyes and a hint of a smile peaked through his lips. His thoughts moving towards the reason the King might punish a noble on behalf of a servant: as they crossed his mind, his expression quickly changed going from confusion and settling on worry.

"Merlin," the low and throaty voice sent shivers down Merlin's spine and any lucid thought clouded. Merlin had dreamed of hearing Arthur saying his name that manner but an entirely different reason. "Why did my father have to punish anyone on your behalf?" And just like that, any feeling of clouded thought was gone and quickly after went Merlin


	3. The Dragon and the Vessel

Nimueh was no longer glistening gold, instead, she blended with the darkness of the barely lite corridor. It was dark and ominous, the air riddle with an indistinguishable odor, that marked a travesty to any mortal's nose and has the women was no mortal being, the smell no disturbed her not. There was no sound, her body did not make even a whisper as she made her way to the Great Dragon's prison.  
The surrounding hall weathered and what had once been polished had dwindled to unrefined and jagged rocks, as if forgotten by time. She found her destination was just as dimly lit as her journey. She stood at the edge of a cliff peering down the abyss of darkness.

"Oh, Great Dragon," The voice was flat and soft, but it echoed against the walls. The sound of cut air and strong fluttering resonated above her gaining volume as it drew closer

"I see your death was not in vain, High Priestess." Kilgharrah spoke, his grand wings extended and retracted swinging beside his body—protected by golden scale—a he settled on the landing. The cave was dark, and the wall made of rock; missing was ground between the entrance that opened to the castle halls and the dragon's landing.

"The Old Religion rid me of my hatred and made me its Vessel" For the moment Nimueh appeared human, her body twitched, and sound could be heard from her movement, as dim light reflected from her pale skin. "During the last of my human time, when I came to you Great dragon I was tarnished by my rage, my heart blackened by hatred; created by my inability to do nothing for my people."  
The unpleasant memories were brought forth in her mind.  
"It was why I was hesitant to aid you. I knew not how far you were willing to go for your hatred."

"But you saw that my need for revenge was never so grand I would harm the innocent and become a true monster." A heavy silence echoed around them. Nimueh knew she had momentarily let herself relax but it was time she reminded herself of her reason for being before him.  
"I do not come here through kinship. I come here, as a messenger for the Powers." The scales surrounding Kilgharrah's visage tighten, his nostril flared. The Great Dragon felt contempt for the entity who allowed the massacre of many magical being, both human and creatures alike.

"What brings you here, Vessel of the old religion?" Though his voice was calm, his eyes held a different scene; he was ready to erupt. In the dark Nimueh narrowed her eyes sensing the episode to come.

"Great Dragon you have a duty to the Old Religion, to be fulfilled in the comings days."

"And how am I able to fulfill it when I'm bound to this hell?" The sharp edge that resonated from Kilgharrah's retort left slivers of gold in her eyes. "Am I to be free?" Nimueh let out an irritated sigh, the closest action to pure humanity she had given as of late.

"No, it will come to you."

"Then what more does the old religion ask of me. Shall I bear witness to more slaughtering of my kin for the sake of a mortal man's rage." The words resonated through the prison, anger emanated from every inch him.

"Kilgharrah the old religion demands a task of you." The great dragon could tell her words were not her owns, but that of the Masters of the old religions. Golden energy swirling around her, and her eyes devoid of humanity shone of gold.

"What right have you, Old Religion ho demand of me. You have taken everything fro..."

"Everything but your faithful council; pride and anger. Which you cling to like a petulant child. The Council whom would have you twist Prince Emrys, actions assuring his destiny would not be fulfilled. A council which would have you set fire to the innocent, their only fault; being a resident under Uther's law."

"So, I shall be punished for things that have yet t…" With a lifted hand the old religion silenced the Dragon.

"Punished for things, you would have done. They were set in stone, only your actions, they were hidden from you." The Dragon bowed his head in shame.  
"What does the Old Religion ask of me?" The anger that the Great Dragon once held deflated.  
"Uther Pendragon will come, in all his arrogance, demanding answers to the question. he seeks You will aid his search, no half-truth, no riddles."  
"He massacred our people, "Said Kilgharrah with a hunched neck. "You ask so much of me." Words came as nothing but a hoarse whisper. The dancing gold retreated, knowing their task was completed leaving only the former darkness in its place. Nimueh answers softly.  
"He has grieved and let go. Uther, by his own hands, ill set things right with magic once more. It is time for you to do the same." Kilgharrah knew, that he would aid Uther Pendragon, if not willing, then to right the wrongs. "Do not relinquish to defeat, your freedom, will come in time." Nimueh waited until Kilgharrah faced him and in a whisper spoke. "Remember this Dragon, you are not alone."

Gaius worked in relative silence, his quill speeding across the paper, unaware of his furrowed brow mouth and hints of pink tongue peeking through. He momentarily paused, to reread his writing and began once again. He let himself reveal in the silence and his unobstructed work unaware of the world until the door to the room opened rapidly and closed just as quick. He stared silently at his murmuring nephew, the boy's ebony s hair appearing messier than usual his familiar scarf missing from his neck. "Merlin." Merlin jumped at the sound of his name.  
"Oh, Gaius."  
"What's wrong Merlin?" The young warlock hesitated but began to speak, rapidly and to anyone unfamiliar with it, incoherently.  
"I think the King is trying to seduce me," Gaius brows soared, and eyes widen slightly at Merlin's statement but refrained from speaking. "and Arthur won't believe me. Now Arthur's being a prat because I may have accidentally let it slip that one of the visiting Lords had attempted to corner me." The rest of Merlin's words were lost even to Gaius. He knew that the King rarely took a lover and even rarer were they male. "… he asked me to call him Uther and smiled at me…" There weren't too many people who had permission to use the King's given name, so maybe there might be some there, Gaius thought. The words played in his head. Uther was planning something, and it involved his nephew.

Several hours later found Gaius making his way to the King's private dining chamber, on invitation of Uther himself. Not surprisingly the king had yet to arrive, but the servants had prepared three places and they were waiting. He did not sit, but a mere instance later the king himself arrived and sat down prompting him to do the same.  
"Sire," Gaius said with a simple bow.

"Gaius, please, for tonight Uther." Signaling the servants to bring them drinks. "Dominic shall be running late. He says Phillipa is being stubborn about her looks and won't let him leave." Rolling his eyes, Uther was glad for the very first time and quite happy that Morgana was not one to care for his opinion on her dresses. Uther grabs the drink the servant brought him as Gaius nods. There was something on his friend's mind.

"What are your intention towards my nephew, Sire?" Uther spluttered almost spilling the drink only his youthfully gained reflex saved him from the catastrophe. In Gaius direction, he sent bulging eyes of disbelief and confusion. Gaius waited for an answer, tight-lipped until the usual stern King composed himself enough and began speaking.

"What in the world are you going on about Gaius?" The confusion and disbelief on Uther face reaffirmed his inference. Uther was not attempting to seduce his nephew, but his action compelled Gaius to believe that there was still a plan that revolved Merlin. Gaius worried about the nature of it and if it involved only Merlin whether it was about his magic or not.  
The King was not a patient man, so when Gaius did not immediately answer he cleared his throat. He watched as Gaius frowned than became rigid. He was unsure what was going through his friend's head; to Uther Gaius had always been difficult to read. "My nephew foolishly assumes that you are attempting to seduce him." For a moment Uther thought Gaius was jesting, but growing up, Gaius was never one for humor and that was something that persisted in his old age. So, the man answered seriously.

"While your nephew is certainly handsome," Uttered the politically inclined man. "he is very young and he is far too pleasant to be with a bitter man like me." His Majesty knew he had partly given the correct answer when Gaius nodded. He then added." Also, it would never do to have my own son truly hate me." That brought an audible snort from the man that sat before the king. "Yes, they are obvious to everyone but themselves."

"Then Sire, may I ask what your plans with my nephew are?" Uther smirked at his friend, finally figuring out the real reason why the former uncomfortable conversation happened. Gaius gave him a knowing expression in return, swirling his drink before bringing it to his lips.

"I wish to cease the tension, the pining, the posturing, so I shall arrange for Merlin and Arthur to marry or at the very least court him with intent to marry." Not even a twitch of surprise marred the healer's old face as he sipped at his drink.  
"Why not simply get them together, no marriage needed?" Gaius asked as more of a question reassure himself the marriage was not for the wrong reason.  
"I know my son very well. I am very aware Merlin shall be the only person he'll ever love, and I'd rather not accidentally insult my guest by refusing a union between my son and their child." Uther tapped his fingers on the rectangular wooden table.  
"What are your plans for…" Interrupting Gaius' word King Dom arrives sitting at the last remaining plate. Uther motions the servant to begin bringing the food. Servant bow respectively before disappearing to do his bidding, leaving only three behind. The remaining servants perched themselves against the far wall, where they are unable to hear what was being spoken.

"Plans for what?" The foreign king wonders.

"My plans for the marriage between Merlin and Arthur." Uther answered. "I've begun tutoring Merlin. I am to make sure he has the ability to read and write. I may agree with this marriage, but I refuse to have Arthur marry someone unintelligent." Plates of delicately placed cheeses, surrounded by vibrant fruits, golden brown loaves of bread and scrumptious meats visibly glistening and dispensing steam. Gaius' mouth watered, not having remembered the last time he ate something of this complexity. The court physician waited until both kings had been served and piled his plate with food.

"Merlin can already read and write fairly well, his mother taught him." Uther's raised brow goes unnoticed by the eating companions and he files the oddness of the statement. "Hunith," Slowly savoring the seasoned meat Gaius stopped speaking, so not to offend the Kings with ill manners. "The boy's mother should be aware of your scheme. She is the one you will need to convince. I would not bother lying, nor attempting to but her approval." A simple nod was given to Gaius and then the subject dropped.


	4. Merlin's Milkshake

**Chapter Three: Merlin's Milkshakes**

It had been seven sunrises before Uther had begun his plan to wed his son to Merlin and King Uther went to personally collect Merlin from his quarters. The man expected the servant to still be resting, so Uther leisured through the tranquil corridor of his castle enjoying the rest from his kingly duties and the journey devoid of people and their sounds. The slow-paced journey allowed for his mind to wander freely.

The King reflected, and his attention progressed to his children. Morgana; kind, outspoken, independent, spoiled and often thought nothing on how her action affected other. She was plagued by nightmares and did not trust anyone but her maidservant who could truly do nothing to help her. She had slowly begun a slow descend to angry, her face held those honied smile filled with mischief less and less; they became stoic unreadable expressions.

Arthur, in which True happiness was something he rarely exhibited, his son—more often than not—garnished a mask of arrogance and callous indifference that came off as cruel; something that made Uther apprehensive regarding Arthur ruling Camelot and her people. This changed rather quickly with Merlin's arrival and Uther couldn't be more thankful for the odd boy's arrival. There were more effortless smiles and boisterous laughter coming from the Prince; noted by Camelot's subjects as being brought by Merlin.

Uther was so lost in thought he had not noticed he had arrived at his destination until the door opened to reveal Merlin. The boy's usual hair was damp strands stuck to his face. "Sire?"

"Merlin, just the person I needed. We shall have breakfast together. Then you must complete the task I informed you of." The boy opened his mouth to speak but it closed, having thought over what might happen if he tried going against the King's orders. "Worry not of my son Merlin. I have arranged for George to look after him." Leaving no room for arguments Uther turned towards his chambers for breakfast. It was a swift and quiet affair, as neither men attempted to speak only focused on their nourishment. "Come." The king ordered, and Merlin silently followed behind him.

The people crowding the halls slowly dwindled as the two males grew closer to the patched section of the castle. This left to walk alone in silence, the King and a fearful Merlin following behind. The young man's heart pounded as Uther lead Merlin down deserted pathways, to a portion of the castle scarcely used by its residents, but one he came to know very well. Any nerves Merlin carried seemed to slowly subside as they made way to the familiar doors that opened to the royal library. Uther pushed the entrance himself than paused, before motioning Merlin in before him.

Merlin walked in and the sense of serenity flowed through him, as his took in the familiar sight of books. The smell of ink, leather, and papers filled Merlin's nostrils and he began to relax further. The warlock floated towards the corner table and within his sight was Geoffrey wielding his usual weapon bound of leather and paper. The King turned and saw the fond expression painted on the library keeper's face. "Hello Geoffrey," Merlin said a silly smile littered his face, the King residing behind him all but forgotten.

"Merlin, back for more already. I have another book you might enjoy." The King watched the scene with utmost fascination and a willed silence. The many years Geoffrey had managed the royal library no one had been capable of enticing friendly emotion from the stern Geoffrey, not even the King himself could procure even a quarter of the fondness Geoffrey appeared to bestow the boy. "This time I've found one in Anglo-Norman for you to practice with." The boy glided towards Geoffrey hand reached out taking the book in his hands and cradling it to his chest. Uther cleared his catching their attention. "Your Majesty."

"The Royal tutors shall be coming here for Merlin. They shall be testing his knowledge. You Geoffrey, shall make sure they have the proper tools to do so." The boy's mouth dropped as would have Geoffrey had he not had years of practice in controlling his features. The king turned and sauntered through the doors.

Arthur woke, to the eager and competent hands of George, that still seemed to pollute his life with dullness. Before Arthur woke George had tidied up the usually messy room, had brought him a warm breakfast and yet his neatly cut caramel brown hair and his excessive dutifulness never ceased to agitate Arthur to no ends. He wanted the messy black hair, surprisingly soft and pale skin and the scarcely competence that came with Merlin. He wanted the familiar blue eyes and shapely lips that teased and enticed him. He wanted the too large ears, that charmed him, instead he got George; dull, responsible, dutiful George.

"George." Arthur snapped at him, the servant did not even flinch, and certainly did not throw a made-up insult that would get anyone else thrown to the stocks.

"Yes, your Highness."

"Where is my useless servant." It was when asked for Merlin that George stiffened and he begun to fiddle with his hand avoiding the Prince's eyes.

"I do not know Sire." He quivered, gulping down to stray the fear. "I was simply informed by the King that I was to be you manservant until told otherwise." A vein twitched in Arthur head as his face began to turn a repugnant red and his nostrils flared violently. Arthur grabbed whatever clothing was closest and marched in search of his father.

The angered Prince found his father in his personal office, relaxed and unaware of an impending tantrum. The King stared at his glaring son, in a nonchalant manner he had been perfecting since his youth; one he had not been able to teach either of his children. _Maybe he could teach Merlin._ Uther thought as he waited for Arthur to speak. When Arthur did not speak Uther, continued to look through the papers in front of him. The Prince's heavy breathing could be heard in silence that begot around them.

"Where is he?" Arthur inquired voice verging on screams, and Uther continued to search through his paper not once did he look up. "Where is my manservant." When Uther finally looked up, he struggles do conceal his laughter at sight. A red-faced Arthur brought memory of his childhood when an indignant child demanded they return Morgana because he had not liked her.

"I believe George, is doing the task which were asked of him." An inwardly smug Uther stated, though his outwardly appearance brandished indifference. Arthur anger deepened further.

"If something happens to my Merlin…" Arthur began, before Uther silenced him with a hardened look, finally fully removing his attention from the work he had been doing. This was something that should have worried Uther; his own son contemplating treason for a servant but the boy's loyalty to Arthur was unwavering even before they attraction began.

"Watch yourself boy, your moments away from committing treason." Uther mockingly threatened, in an a far too amused tone. The mirth in the King's voice released Arthur's pent up anger. "I have done nothing to your Merlin," Uther cheekily replied, emphasizing the use of 'your' in his reply. This time when Arthur reddens it's slight and not due to his anger, but due to

"Then Father may I ask if you…" Interrupted by his father the Prince stopped.

"I quite like the boy, ever since he arrived you've been acting less like a spoiled brat or as he enjoys saying a Dollophead and more like a Prince," Uther says, with his familiar stern expression marred with an unfamiliar amusement Arthur had never seen before on his father.

"Th... th…wha?"

"Don't stutter it's unbecoming." Uther chastised.

"Then where is Merlin?"

"Merlin is doing his duty. I have given him tasks and he is completing them. Just as you should be doing." With a wave of a hand the King dismissed the Princes, returning to the papers he had momentarily abandoned.

There sat a being, still like sculpted stone statue that had decayed with the passage of time. Face riddled with shriveled lines, sunken blanched skin and cold dead eyes, resembling the bones of the long dead. Nimueh's humanly features were taken, the vessel donned the golden magic like a mask obscuring her visage.

"It's time." The Vessel said, her voice flat. They appeared in a golden light and floated steadily to the man on the throne. The small chest was ornate and wooden, adorned with delicately carved flowers, and painted on its lid was a white dragon. The book on other hand was simple, bound by leather baring no distinguished details." Those are to give the young Warlock along with the rings of Ambriose and the crown that began it all." The Fisher King did not move as the objects were placed beside his throne, only stared and waited as he had done for many years before.

Uther opened the doors to his library expecting see faces of frustration, maybe a few glares of some sort. The royal tutors, were strict, expecting perfection from all their students regardless of blood; they valued education above all. So, they always found even the smallest fault in everything; something which Arthur often complained about in his youth. The King, instead finds his tutors red faced, hand waving wildly about. They were acting like peasant children; wild with unrestrained emotions and it unhinged Uther. Geoffrey's face was adorned with a self-satisfied grin while he sat next to the King's future son in law, whose pinked face was a pretty sight to behold. Uther made a noise to interrupt the excitement, but that only managed to relocate it to him.

"Sire." Adrian, the youngest of the four tutors by far, had red hair splattered by silver his eyes an olive-green color with skin as fair as snow. He was renowned for his knowledge of Grammar; it dealt with all that was associated with reading, writing and languages. "He's wonderful!" Tutor Adrian declared, as he looked ready to jump up and down, in giddy emotion. "He so well read and his penmanship, is a simply beautiful sight to behold." Murmurs in agreement came from the rest of the tutors. "His grasp of Anglo-Norman—whether read or spoken—is incomparable, let not even speak of his Latin and Best of all he speaks, reads and write the tongue of the lost Kingdom of Ambriose as if it were not a dying language."

"I would have mind that his mathematical skills would have been severely lacking but he—with the help of Geoffrey—strengthened the subjects that gave him difficulty. He is very much a hard worker." Sir Nicholas praised. He was a tall and round man with pale skin and cheeks that are always painted in scarlet. His powdered hair reached his shoulders past his shoulder the same length of his beard. He was a jolly man, always smile and helping those around him.

"While he has difficulty with Astrology, he began to study without prompting. My word for someone who been learning for such a short time he's wonderful. Splendid even!" Tutor Belvin was oldest of them all, a twig of a man with fading hair age-spotted skin and a hooked nose, he was also the cruelest one. He took pleasure in belittling his students, only halted his tongue when in the presence of the closest friend, Sir Nicholas.

"Enough." Bellowed Uther silencing the room. "I shall have all that he is knowledgeable in written and given to me." Uther grabbed Merlin by the shoulder, pulling him towards the entry. "We have a meeting with the seamstress."


	5. Pendragon Blood Curse

I'm so sorry for being so late in updating this. I've been rather annoyed at my laptop. She crashed on me in the middle of writing this chapter. I had to rewrite the entire chapter and it was rather off-putting. Quite frankly I need a new laptop but am unable to afford one at the moment. Thank for being patient with me. Also is anyone interested at editing (beta reading) some this story. I still looking for someone to help. P.M if you are.

 **Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters then they are not mine.**

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Pendragon Blood Curse

A troubled whimper escaped the sleeping woman. The lady had been plagued by these terrible for days nightmares unaware and she was that the nightmare that plagued her were not dreams but visions of a likely future. She twisted and moaned, her body hot and decorated in sweat; she dreamed.

 _Menacing scarlet eyes advanced towards the fallen body. The creature skinned in black scales talons the likes of eagles and a jaw that resembled a beak, unlike the dragons these creatures only had two legs, wings the span of its body—like those of a bat and appendages the looked like hands with long sharp claw_ s

The nightmare quickly changed, and the woman murmured Arthur's name.

 _Arthur struggled with his body as he attempted to fight the two bandits that had attacked him. But his body begun to feel heavy, limbs refusing all his commands. He fell to the ground as his last opponent thrust himself at Arthur the weight knocking down the weakened man. The Prince grabbed at his sword only for it to fall limp as if it weighed a great mass and, on his wrist, he carried an unfamiliar artifact whose stone shone bright like a roaring fire._

Once more the dreamed morphed into another.

 _The scarlet eyes returned only this time they are set on an unmoving body on the ground. Arthur was not moving, his face pale lifeless; not even his chest arose for air, and once again the orange stone melded to the dark band on his wrist glowed bright, almost brighter than before._

Her dreamed changed one last changed this time it held no person but objects and one potent emotion.

 _This time there was no creatures, nor bandits, no death what so ever. There was only a chest—small in stature, with no intricate details— that when opened, it was to a substance that mirrored sand, and a wooden object surrounded by cloth. It would ignite itself on fire once before closing. Then once again it would open this time a much longer time, then close. It mimicked this action twice more before the dark feeling envelope the dream; an explosive anger that always came with fire._

Morgana woke with a gasp, for a moment her vision darkened by the night, but her eyes were wide displaying the gold coloring them. The smell of smoke filled her lungs and the spark of orange heat enveloped her curtain. She let out a piercing scream, bringing the dazed knights to alertness.

The King sat gazing into the distance, worry donned his aging but still handsome face. Something was plaguing his daughter. It had begun with simple nightmares, and then a culprit had set fire to her belongings. The knight's search had brought him no results. He felt as if he had failed her as a King but most importantly as a father. No matter how much she angered him with her independence and opinions, he never wanted to see her meek, afraid of even her own shadows. He sighed mind raced until a knock at his doors interrupted his thoughts. "Enter." In comes a nameless servant, young and boring in appearance. The boy bowed and waits for the King's permission to speak. "Speak."

"Sire, the Knights have caught a druid." The words that stumbled from the servant's mouth were slow and tentative as afraid the news he conveyed would have angered the King. "The man, he seeks an audience with the King. He speaks of a curse, Sire." Uther stiffened, an act, which went unnoticed by the servant, the man's thought sped, murmuring at the possibility that the same eerie druid he had banished, had returned. He stood, slowly, running a hand through his graying hair, not giving any clue of his tremulous other than the hurried pace he had taken to his destination.

A repugnant dankness dominated the dungeon, shrouded with soft shadows that blanketed a fragment of the Knights inclined bodies, with barely a look in their direction the King advanced. Before the cell the king remained, silently taking in the sight and found the familiar face of the druid who came to him many winters before. Time had not changed the man, barring the few more silver strands marring the locks of scarlet threads. Sporting dread in his eyes the king turned to dismiss the knights and from the corner of his eye, he thought he caught the prisoner's lip twitched; there was no smirk plastered on the man's lips, but Uther knew his mind.

"I warned you never to return here, Druid. I gave you one chance to remove your person from my kingdom as gratitude for informing me of the curse." Narrowed eyes fixed on the prisoner, filled with suspicion of the druid's sudden arrival. The pointed look Uther sent to the druid had no ill effect on the imprisoned man.

"I've returned to aid you once more your Majesty." Snippets of arrogance arose from the man's tone despite any attempt Caern made to conceal it, with thoughts of his task still in mind the druid continued his plan. Caern had willingly followed the Old Religion but his anger yearned to be placated, even by the simplest of petty desires; he shan't simply give the full curse without breaking Uther Pendragon's perfectly crafted armor. "Sire, I may be of use to you once again."

Pinched lips and furrowed brow accompanied by tapered eye bore into the druid. Oh, how the man's revered the angered look sent in his direction, the vengeful segment of his being buzzed with the unscrupulous desire to do more but for now he was content to simply irritate the man who had murdered his people. The old religion had a plan for the murderous King, and Caern knew they would never be kind to the slayer of the magical people.

"Your usefulness has expired, and so has my good grace." A miscalculation on Caern's part but no matter, the druid knew it could easily be fixed. The words brought the King to seethe inwardly at the peasant presumption and want—quite desperately—to release the man from his body but did not do so.

"I meant no presumptions, your Majesty." Stuttered words hinting at insincerity and the low bow were dishonest, of which both were accompanied by thoughts of anger filled with hatred. Caern could not wait for Pendragon to hear that he brought his own downfall and that the curse was something he shall never break; unbreakable for him. "I have news, Sire."

"What brings you here, Druid." The last word conveyed in form of an insult, and through tightened lips, Uther warily questioned, still cautious of the man before him. The man knew, and quite well, that his actions regarding the magical purge provoked a burning hatred and in turn had made Uther distrust magical beings, even more so the ones who would so eagerly aid him, still this man made his skin crawl.

Caern was the fanatical type, he eagerly followed the Old Religion doing the task that even the most disturbed would not do. He was faithful to point of insanity and were he ever made question his faith, well, no one would be able to imagine his actions.

"I found, that there was more to the curse. Sire, in my ignorance, Sire, I lied to you. I beg for forgiveness." His aching body folded his lips almost kissing the ground. Knowing very well Uther would find his brown-nosing maddening so he waited until the King spoke and told him to get up.

"Stop this incessant nonsense," Clear irritation written on Uther's face. "and tell me what you know." His eyes still meeting the ground, Caern smirked before quickly composing his face into an apologetic expression.

"Your Majesty, I found—by certain terms that there had been more knowledge found. The curse which I once said incapable of being removed may have a stipulation which allows a Pendragon an heir." He said slowly simply to annoy the King.

"Well, what is it?" Uther's impatient was running thin.

"Magic. Sire." The Kings eyes constricted, and mouth warped and begun to form on the elder Pendragon. Caern expression read fear, but his thoughts were overrun with joy at annoyance he was causing the King, whose action blighted the people of the Old Religion.

"You dare mock me, Druid. This shall be you last brea…" Uther actions were no longer controlled. The curled lip and enflame face that glowered worn by the King sent satisfying shivers down Caern spine that caused the druid to lick his lip in gratification. All action is mistaken for nerves and fear by the incensed King.

"I would never mock you, Your Majesty." Enlarged eyes in conjunction with gaping mouth, actions displayed as part of Caern's act; a few stutters were added for its sake as well.

"Only laying with someone of magic may conceive a child." Caern let it sink in before adding. "Within a fortnight of issuing the ban of Magic, the Priestess, Nimueh took her life and with her death, the curse was enacted." Those precise words caused more trouble than any of Caern's action. And persistently chanted through the Kings mind. Impossible.

"Are you quite sure?" Uther questioned, his voice low and shaken. A crinkle formed between Caern's eyes and a mystified expression appeared. "A fortnight," He pressed. "Are you sure that was when the curse was enacted." Caern nodded. "Tell me the curse in its entirety."

"A Curse on Pendragon lineage; no child shall ever be born of their blood, only a union conceived with magic shall birth an heir." The troubled look on Uther face disappeared instantly and with it returned the cold indifference the King was known for, and though his mind was racing with a disturbing discovery he did not show it. He strode towards the guards, calmly, gracefully, and outwardly without a care in the world.

"Guards, set the man free, gives him what he needs for a day's travel." The King turned towards Caern. "And you Druid, have until sundown to leave Camelot, or else you will be killed on sight." Voice low and deadly made the druid wary. The shiver that ran through the Druid was not one of satisfaction, he knew the King would do just that. Once again, the King addressed the guards before they left. "You will tell no one of this, or else you'll find yourselves punished."

 _Within a fortnight of issuing the ban of Magic, the Priestess, Nimueh took her life and with her death, the curse was enacted_. The words that seemed to reiterate in his mind, each time gaining intensity. The King, no Uther slouched against his chair his free hand massage his temple as the other tightly held a chalice of wine. _It couldn't be true._ Uther wanted to bemoan disbelief, refuse it as the truth because it brought the possibility of something he just wasn't ready to deal with. The knock on the door reclaimed his attention. "Come in." The entry opened to reveal Dominic eyes darting directly to Uther, his face slackened.

"What ails you, Uther?" Dom asked as he sat in the chair opposite Uther, quietly waiting for his friend to be able to speak. They sat in silence, Dom patiently waited, eyes never leaving Uther. It was an unusual sight for the normally poised and regal man to be so, disheartened.

"Nearly eighteen winters ago a druid was caught in Camelot. He pleaded for leniency and in my anger, I refused his plead, only he caught my attention. He brought to me the knowledge of what I, at the time thought was the entire curse so, once it was given to me I set him free as we agreed. The same druid returned once more begging for forgiveness for having deceived me with his ignorance. He informed me that a union between one who carries Pendragon blood and magic will be the only way conceive an heir."

"So, magic." Uther gulped down the remainder of his wine, drops of it falling out from the edge of his mouth. He did not bother to clean himself just reached for the pitcher and poured himself more wine.

"There's more." Uther chugged the even messier than before, some missing his mouth entirely and falling onto his clothing. This validated the seriousness of the situation. Dom sat up straighter and waited patiently for more. "To anyone else, it was just simply small insignificant information, but for me, it's a fact of utmost importance and maybe the answer to what is currently happening now. He informed me that a fortnight after the ban on magic began, Nimueh used her death to enact the magic that would curse the Pendragon bloodline." And with that, the pieces fell into place and he knew the dilemma that ailed his friend.

"Morgana." A slow slugged nod in the foreign king's direction. Dominic knew this was an important moment for magic. Uther could continue with his anger at it or he could let it go for the sake of his beloved daughter. "Will you treat her as you treated the rest of the magic user? Can you?" The questions had an immediate answer.

"No, I couldn't. You know she'll ask me why." Uther eyes closed, and lips tensed in dejection. Uther was not sure how Morgana will react; his daughter was unpredictable.

"You tell her the truth and let her decide." The truth? The truth could bring forth hatred from his daughter that would fracture his heart. But it was not only about him.

"She'll hate me and think me a hypocrite." Placing the empty pitcher on the desk Uther continued. "I am a hypocrite. I murdered families all in the name of my hatred towards magic and my own wife wielded it." Silenced echoed at the words long time in coming. The actions that lead to the ban of magic, the anger that had dwindled to years of numbness and morphed into dejection but had always stayed sealed within him and left to fester. "I grew so angry. Ygraine knew she would die and she left me, willingly, happily." By the end, Uther was openly sobbing. _Why had she so eagerly left him?_ The thoughts on his mind, that even today still lingered. "I wanted to hurt her, but she had gone. She left me and her infant son alone in a world which she no longer resided in and that further my anger." Slouched on his chair Uther stared at the ceiling, heartache plastered on his face. "How can I be…Why would Morgana desire to be named my daughter? What good would I be for her with so much innocent blood on my hands?"

"She shall be hurt if revealed by someone else. There are individuals who would gladly use it for their gain. So, do remember it is not all about you. I persist that you inform her of the truth if you truly wish not to unintentionally wound her and have her seek your life." Dom stated, an inflexibly look thrown in Uther's direction.

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What do you think of Caern? He's my very own character and I'm not his biggest fan he's a jerk. He just rubs me the wrong way. Thank you for reading. Oh yes I still will try to post another chapter either on Thursday or Friday.


	6. The Set Up

The Set Up

"Don't you dare, Leanora Hale." The screech that followed penetrated the discordant din of the crowd. The owner of said voice—a fresh-faced woman enveloped by molten waves of scarlet cascading down her back— flounced elegantly after the giggling child, her silk-made gown of vibrant jade whooshed as the woman moved. Some of the observers brandished disapproval at the wild actions of both ladies; an unexpected action of someone of their stature. The others, whose attention had too, been captivated by the bold woman, smiled softly at their daring display. The rest went accordingly with their days just as the cloaked woman did. She sported a common and unassuming cloak—brown and dull that would easily be disregarded—and made her way to the edge, escaping the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.

At the fringe, laid the gritty structure—flaking paint revealed wounds of dirt coated wood that had all but overtaken its form. The sign illegible filth layered on its words, scarcely hung, yet still clutching to the construct by will alone. The dwelling was deteriorated, much more so than others, yet it was known throughout the people and the frequency of which it was visited— largely after sundown—did not lessen. The Stark tavern was well known and attained many visitors from afar; it housed inventions made without the aid of magic and its delightful eccentric keepers. It was why The Stark tavern was the chosen meeting place; well-known and familiar.

In an unusual manner the tavern was quiet, the few sound—voices that were barely audible—affirmed the few occupants it held. The usual sight of the burst of light followed by thunderous bang made by the inventions in mid-process; absent was also the charming bodacious laughter of the mischief-maker and the wonder-filled sounds of awe. When the woman entered few heads turned but, quickly lost interest; she paid no heed to the long pipes of protruding from the ceiling into barrels, or any of the inventions that left the public in awe created by the wife of eldest Stark. She made her way to the darkest corner, where one rarely sat unless they arrived to hide from the world.

"The druid I believe?" The words dripped with disgust as her face twisted at the elder insight. The woman cared not for the weak and feeble mortals. She could not wait to rid herself of the mortal coil that shackled her to this frail existence, and the druid in her perception could not cull her distaste if anything his sight enhanced it. The female sidhe loathed the thought of aging; loathed the thought of growing weaker; loathed the thought that her beauty and youth fading. So, she, along with her father planned their return to Avalon with the soul of a Prince. The only reason she was speaking the disgusting mortal before her.

"Yes, I am Caern." His face replicated her expression though for a very different reason. With a shake of his head, Caern pushed himself to pleasantry only for the sake of the task handed to him by the old religion. The excitement never left his body and his thoughts went to the memory of the starting mission bestowed to him by the Old Religion.

" _One more thing, Caern." Nimueh placed a hand upon the shoulder of the druid, prompting him to look at it in fanatical reverence. She motioned him up and the pressure that had weighed him down lifted. We have one more task to ask of you." The eagerness at which the druid brought would have made any mortal wary. "The woman who came to you for assistance, you shall not give her the enchantment potion she seeks, in its place you shall give her the fertility potion that resembles the enchantment potion and advise her to cast a potency spell." This time, less eagerly, the man nodded, questions floated in his head, but he wisely elected to not verbalize them._

"I have the potion you requested." No sense of guilt or ill feeling passed through Caern as he handed over the potion; after all, it was for the Old Religion. The woman in question tossed the allocated coins in an unassuming bag not bother to hide her scorn. "My counsel to you child; cast a spell to further strengthen the potion, it will make it, that much more difficult to break." The grin that appeared on the woman's face was crossed with a sneer and marred her otherwise beautiful face. "Another warning to you, heed what man you enchant, should you curry the Old Religion's furry." And with the last of his word he picked up the bag of coins hastily tossed on the table and departed.

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I put up a Poll on my Profile. I want to know if Morgause should be evil or she can be redeemed. You let me know because I have two ways this story can go. Thank and I apologize not only for the short chapter, the time you waited for the chapter but also for any cringe-worthy mistakes I made. Yes if you are a Teen Wolf fan and a Marvel fan the Leanora is related to the Hale's pack and the wife of the eldest Stark is related to Tony Stark.


	7. Ygraine's Decision

I am truly sorry for making you wait for so long. I really have no excuse for the late update. I will not give a set date seeing how I have not been meeting them. I will inform you that I will be updating this story sporadically seeing as life is kind of hectic. I still am in search of a beta reader because as you might notice from the chapter I am having trouble with the writing. I hope you enjoy and I am once again putting up a link to see whether or not Morgause will be redeemed or not. Hopefully, everyone is able to use the new one on m profile.

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Ygraine's Decision

The King paced outside his ward's chambers, lower lip held lightly between his teeth; thoughts hurtling about, causing mayhem with fabricated scenarios. He pondered his next action, how was he going to go about illuminating Morgana of the truths he most painstakingly sought to hide. As Uther strode back and forth, the woven container that swung limply from his arm was immediately forgotten, and the genuine worry that took its place was, perforated with dread. Dom words echoed giving Uther a strand of courage. The pacing seized before the wooden door that led to Morgana's chambers, his fist lifted to knock but the man courage wavered and snapped. He turned to leave when the door creaked opened to reveal Guinevere.

"Ah Guinevere, how strange meeting you here." All air of kingliness replaced by unfamiliar awkwardness that with a single sentence caused Uther to internally wince. The man cleared his throat, the nervous ambiance that remained present.

"Sire," She eyed the King suspiciously before she curtsied. "Was there something you needed?" Gwen found the King's actions odd. The usual imposing confidence, littered with arrogance, pride, and refinement, amongst other things was not in exhibited, no, in its place befell nerves, fear, and bitterness that confused the servant. "Lady Morgana has requested that her food be brought to her chamber. I was on my way to do as she asked."

"Do not bother, I have brought nourishment. You may take your leave until otherwise called for." Clear hesitation was written on the woman's face, her smoldering chocolate stare subtly scrutinized the King's bizarre actions and with one last look the woman curtsied to her king once again and compelled herself to leave.

Uther tentatively enters the chambers closing the door behind him. With each step that brings the man get closer to Morgana, his mind was filled with horror-themed endings (he knows his daughter well and he knows how effortlessly her anger could consume her,) all which feature a bloodstained Morgana with a raged filled expression. "Back so soon Gwen, You, must finish telling me how you found Mer… Sire?" She dutifully tilts her body in an elegant bow. "What brings you here, your Majesty?"

"I've brought nourishment." Lifting the basket in the direction of his daughter's stare the King, no Uther, nervously continued despite Morgana's slightly narrowed eyes having fixated towards him. "I would be most honored if you accompanied me to the gardens to dine." He knew Morgana found his action questionable but that did nothing from disbarring the light of hope etched in his gaze; no matter how minor it featured in his expression, he hoped that his plan went well.

"My apology Sire, I'm not quite feeling up to dining in the garden," The hope depicted on Uther expression diminished, ever so slightly, to be abruptly replaced by the stoic countenance he often adorns. Guilt resonated in Morgana, as she noticed that Uther had brought forth impenetrable eyes and inscrutable feature he most often decked to hide his genuine emotions. "I would prefer to do so here, if not too much of a bother Sire." The words smoothly added by Morgana; she watched, with utter fascination as his expression brightened. The young woman knew not why this sole action made her wish to momentarily renounce years of fervently instilled rules and brandish a foolish grin; wide, boundless, and unrefined often worn by children when praised by their parents.

"That would be lovely my Lady," Sheepishly he added, "I have already informed Gwen that she was dismissed until she was to be called upon once more." Taking in her smiling face, soft, still plenty restrained but more genuine than anything given since her coming of age, Uther's features warmed considerably, and the change went unnoticed by the man in question. In mock annoyance, Morgana scrunched her face before a smile filtered on it. He moves to the table in her chambers placing the woven carrier atop and scattered a spread of her favorite upon the table. A sliver of suspicious crept through but Morgana moved to sit facing of the King.

They ate in relative silence, only chatting once the meal had finished and the plates piled and returned the basket. Uther prolonged the inevitable and undesirable end by enquiring about his daughter's day, how she was faring and making his purpose to see her smile. The laughter that Uther managed to coax from her was jovial and uninhibited and made Uther yearn for the time in her youth she was always this free. As time went on, words the king's words lost their humor and above him loomed the terror the truth will have brought him.

Morgana treasured the time she spent with the King, she enjoyed the attention, the pampering, and parental fussing, but she was no fool. She was wholly aware that Uther had ulterior motives behind this occasion; she knew there was more to be said and it left her perplexed by the reality that he had yet to even hint at it. The difficulty that Uther had to even articulate even a semblance of the words that would direct the conversation to its true purpose was grand and had him scrambling to divert the discussion further away from it. So when Morgana spoke Uther's face twisted in distaste.

"There is something you wish to tell me isn't there?" The deadpan expression lingered on Morgana's face, her thoughts though kissed the edge of curiosity and concern. When Uther attempted to hide his sour expression, Morgana knew there was a vast possibility of the discussion ending badly, her thoughts were further confirmed when the king attempted to hide the grimace. "Is there grave new, Sire?" The slight shake of his head went almost unseen by Morgana; though it was more for himself than an answer to her question.

"I am unsure how well you shall take the happenings." Deep from within Uther liberated a guttural sigh, the anxiety that lay dormant (just beneath the surface) from before bubbled and emerged with a much grander disposition. Vetting his daughter's expression left Uther with a pronounced unpleasant taste and plenty of unhappy thoughts. Morgana, for her part, was the picture of indifference and to those who knew her well, were aware of how much worse this mood was than her anger.

"I am to assume we are not to be disturbed." The question she asked, brought forth a stiffness to her handsome face, in particular, her jaw, and though her eyes did not give away a single emotion Uther knew she was expecting the worst. Morgana sat rigidly, no longer was there a comfortable slouch that presented the relaxed nature she had before; back was Lady Morgan known for her grace and polite elegance. For a moment they sat in silence, Morgana waiting for Uther to speak, and Uther contemplating how the discussion was to be initiated.

"I am not a good man Morgana, I am bitter and hateful and selfish and the tale of which I'll inform you of will do nothing but reinforce this." He spoke candidly with her and then with one deep intake of breath Uther begun to speak. "Many winters ago, before the ban on magic, and before Arthur's birth, my wife, the Queen Ygraine and I were tasked with baring the kingdom an heir. For many a time, we sought a child, with little success. We began trying other methods to conceive but those too failed us. The only method I refused to touch upon was magic; I knew there were always consequences to using it especially for creating a life." The struggle by which Uther's visage exhumed the discomfort speaking brought him guided Morgana to the conclusion that this was a secret he was not used to airing. The king's trust brought some comfort to the young woman, her body unwound enough for her defense to lower, reducing the blank expression to nothing and in its place was mild confusion speckled by warmth the trust in her brought.

"I was content with having no blood born heir and once I was certain a child would not be born I began planning to appoint an heir. Though in my ignorance I believed Ygraine supported my decision. It was not until she gave birth to Arthur that I found she was not agreeable to my plan. Within the year Ygraine declared that she was with a child. I, while ecstatic, was unconvinced that there was a child, but time proved me wrong. Her belly grew but as her stomach grew full of life she became weaker and as Arthur's birth approached she was put on bed rest. The day she gave birth…"

Mournful words trembled, broken, and weighted by years of seclusion came to an intake of breath. The man's eyes dark and vacant; his thoughts long returned to his youthful memories. "it was both the most heavenly and sorrowful day of my existence. I was losing my beloved Queen, as I gained a son. I called upon Nimueh to cure her, but she not. The high priestess came to me dejection and explained to me what Ygraine had done. She had knowingly traded her life to bear a child and with her dying breath she mouthed 'that she had done it for me and our Kingdom.' We lost her on that very same day, while Arthur curled in my arms red-faced, wailing in wretchedness and displeasure as if aware of the loss."

Another interim of silence emerged, but this one held much longer than the one before. The air burdened by anguish and tragic old memories. Several times Uther made as if to opened his mouth to resume his history only to unexpectedly close it once more. When he finally drew the courage to continue the words that followed faltered from his lips; it was a slow and arduous battle, leaving Uther in the wake of exhaustion. "I wasn't… It was difficult for me… I looked at a motherless Arthur… The rage I felt…" Uther closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "It was difficult for me to see at Arthur, without my mind wondering to Ygraine and how was I to tell him about his mother. My anger grew, and I beg, I sought to destroy the things that she loved, and it began with anything associated with magic." For the very time, Uther looked at his daughter expecting to see that burning anger that he associated with injustice but was meet with hunched shoulders and silent tears.

"I don't understand Sire, why are you…" More words desired to be liberated but were kept back by sheer will and the need to know why she was hearing this tale.

"There is more of this tale to come and it will involve knowledge that you shall need to make sense of the recent occurrences." The silence that filtered about was solemn, filled with mutual understanding of a much-needed break.


	8. A Story Told

Chapter Eight - A Story Told

"There is more of this tale to come and it will involve knowledge that you shall need to make sense of the recent occurrences." A small perplexed frown decorates Morgana's face and the young sorceress bites her lip, as to not voice the questions plaguing her mind. The silence seems boundless around them, but as no tension arises from Uther, and Morgana's mind wanders momentarily to the king. Time had not diminished his handsome form, while his skin was no longer taunt, and his brow was adorned by groove, his facet still coerced many to swoon. Morgana reached towards the wine bottle and poured them in the cups. Morgana brought the cup to her lips. She never understood why the ladies of the court regardless of age often gossiped of his appearance. To Morgana he always gave her the impression of a strict, no nonsense man, that despite his stoic disposition engendered feelings of safety and inspired a bizarre need to make him proud.

"Morgana…" Her hold on the cup momentarily loosened as she was startled out of her thoughts. The name that was announced slowly wavered and paved way to silence. The hesitation was noted by the young sorceress, as was the struggle to combat it. "There are more happenings that directly affect you in this tale. Do you still wish for me to continue?"

The slow inclination of her head prompted Uther to proceed with his confession. "You must know that my action, the purge of magic, angered many magic users. I am unable to give enlightenment as to why but many—in their enraged grief—sought to curse the Pendragon and Camelot but, none managed to succeed. When it first began…" The downward tilt of Morgana's lips brought shame to the King, the man cleared his throat, shifting a touch before he resumed. "On my order the purge commenced with a mercilessness unseen before; no one was spared. Word had traveled and those that could fled from Camelot to Isle of the Blessed but magic did not protect them from my unjust wrath. They were slaughtered without remorse some even by my own hand. I led my knights to the sacred chamber in the temple of the Priestess just at the moment the last standing High priestess, Nimueh, completed her chanting and plunged a dagger through her heart. Before my very eye the dagger became dust. I had recognized it as the dagger of Dovahkiin."

"Dovahkiin, my Lord?"

"The dagger of the very last Dragonborn, who later became Lord of the Dragons. It had been used to induct a priestess to the Order for centuries and was imbedded with immense magic. If you wish I shall tell you more of it at a much later time?" Her reply came in the form of an eager nod. "At the time I had assumed it was like the others; a failure. In a time not long after your birth, my knights and I were hunting and captured a druid. He sought to save himself, so he negotiated with me; his life for information on the curse that would end the Pendragon line. I accepted his bargain, and he gave me everything the Priestess had written about the curse before informing us he was not aware of any cure to the curse. 'No child shall ever be born of Pendragon blood,' were words that haunted me as I searched for a way to break it: I found nothing." As the tale progressed Uther's gaze strayed from Morgana's and slowly begun to empty itself of emotion.

"Then years later, among the recent days, the Druid returned. I discovered that there was more to the curse. The answer I had chased after, for many years finally in my grasp; the Pendragon line can continue but only when Magic and Pendragon blood adjoin shall there be an heir." Morgana's thoughts swirled violently, knowing of the curse, the Pendragon line dying with Arthur and only magic being capable of saving it, and many more questions surfaced but the most prominent that whirled through her head was 'Why?'. Why was he telling her this tale and Why did he admit that this tale was connected to her, how was it intertwined with her life?

"Sire, if I may interrupt, I do not understand? How does any of this pertain to me." Uther's eyes snapped back to his daughter.

"It will become clear soon enough. So please let me finish, your question will be answered soon." Morgana reluctantly bobbed her head. "Months after Arthur's birth, my anger began to dwindle and Ygraine became a prominent figure in my dreams and the loneliness that grew beside me set me to seek comfort within the arms of the widow in the court. Her husband had left to do my bidding not long after Ygraine, so she too wanted relief from the solitude." Uther could not meet his daughter's eyes as he knew what was coming. "Her husband returned to a heavily pregnant wife. He was joyous for a child he was aware, wasn't his." Morgana's sharp movement let Uther know that her mind had come to an astounding conclusion, as did her words

"The woman, what was her name." The whisper, barely audible, reached the man. Her eyes bore darkly into his as the silence fell about them. The stifled words drew her to tighten her features and stiffened her stare. The lack of answer seemed to confirm her suspicion but, her stubbornness refused to allow her to accept any confirmation not spoken from his lips. She stood as if to intimidate him and once more asked. "Her name?"

Uther reluctantly heaved the response to the surface, only for it to be in the form of a whisper. "Vivienne." The semblance of strength she held crumbled and memories surfaced of times when she yearned to call Uther father, moments when brother was on the tip of her tongue when a mischievous Arthur came to heed. Her mind supplied memories of long before King Uther became Uther in her mind, when her mother and father had taken her to Camelot and the feeling of loneliness and rejection were prevalent. A young Morgana had stayed quiet and unhappy until King Uther, and Prince Arthur had **taken** her away on an adventure that left her feeling cherished and a warmth settled in her chest that thawed away the aching, though alongside it ushered a hunger and a hollowness only settled by their constant presence. She always wished she had been born a Pendragon.

Now though, the whispers echoed, mocking her being with their words, _he is my father_. Those words she longed to say, were now riddled with rejection. Gorlois distance and coldness now made sense. She wasn't his daughter. She was the daughter of Uther Pendragon and Vivienne. She was Uther's daughter, the man who had slaughtered so many innocents, that they sought to end his line in vengeance. Morgana froze, even her breathing seized as she truly processed and connected everything that her father had told her. _Her mother had magic, she had magic,_ those words rippled through her like a mantra darkening her mind and chilling her body.

Uther was worried, he watched as Morgana stood so still she resembled a statue, only the slight blue tinge made her look human. He reached out to touch her, to see if it would make her breath again only for her to jump from his reach and place a fear stricken image on her face. He knew immediately where her thoughts roamed. The ache that bound his chest burned, but nothing compared to the pain when Uther looked at the fear in Morgana's eyes. "No, no, I would never hur…" He did not get the chance to finish as he watched Morgana flee from him.


End file.
